Taking A Break
by celinawrites
Summary: You would think that the Great Mycroft Holmes was a Master at everything. You're wrong. His weakness lies in the kitchen. He can't bake to save his life. Good thing his assistant and best friend is there to help him. -Oneshot. Mild Mythea-


**AN:** Hey guys! It's been a while since I've posted here. Been kind a busy lately with work and a ton of other stuff. In other news, I'm currently working on this Sherlolliarty fic with my best friend and co-writer teme16. The first part's coming out this week. It's my first time collaborating on a story so I'm preeeetty excited yet a bit nervous as well. Hope everything turns out alright.

Anyway, here I have some adorable Mythea for you (because the world really needs more of it)

Reviews are very much appreciated! So...I guess that's all. Have a great day! You know where to find me :)

**I don't own Sherlock. **

-Celina

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Taking A Break

It was her day off.

And if there was something that everyone in the entire building-if not the entire world-knew, it was to never interrupt her day of rest. Working as the sole personal assistant of one of Britain's most powerful men who basically has the fate of the entire Parliament on the palm of his hand is definitely an overwhelming occupation, and the inadequate one-day break a week was not ideal especially for a young woman as herself.

But since the job was overflowing with benefits, and the salary she received was quite generous comparing to an ordinary executive assistant's, she was willing to overlook the 6-day work week policy so long as she was able to soak up every minute and every second of her break with no disturbances or all hell will break lose.

Mycroft wasn't a cruel boss. In fact, he was fairly nice to her as far as most bosses go. Despite his firmness and intimidating demeanor, he treats her with respect and sees her as an equal. This is why she wouldn't trade her position of employment for any other even if his arrogance and disdain towards the normal world did get on her nerves from time to time.

They have spent so much time together in the workplace, on the field (though very rarely), and in business ventures all over the globe that they have quite gotten to know each other very well. Neither would admit it, but they pretty much have memorized each other's actions more than a significant other ever will.

On that fine day, after an entire week of rigorously investigating and digging information on an extremely high profile case, Anthea was more than glad to log herself out of the office and let her long-overdue rejuvenating regimen commence. The work week had evidently drained her both physically and mentally. She had been planning to have a relaxing evening in the comfort of her own home that night, while maybe catching up with a couple of her favorite American television shows. Then in the morning, she would kick back on the swing she had installed on her patio with Dan Brown's Inferno, and a glass of wine.

For some reason, Mycroft was not at the office that day, but whatever was the cause of his absence didn't bother her that much. She knew that if he was in any predicament, he would call. Or if he was in serious trouble, text.

Making her way out of the building, she greeted the cold air of London with a bright smile. She rarely felt so happy to see the streets and the gloomy sky, and breathe in the environment that was distinct to the city.

She was walking on the sidewalk with both her hands tucked inside the pockets of her favorite Burberry coat. Her heels were clicking and clacking with the grey pavement, and her hair was swept away from her face by the light breeze. It was just a typical Saturday afternoon that would soon turn into a perfect one as soon as she reached her flat-

_Beep! Beep!_

She heard and felt her phone buzz on one of her inner pockets. She stopped on her tracks to retrieve the black device and read the message that came in. It was from Mycroft:

_Are you out of the office?_

It said. She cocked one of her eyebrows at the odd question. Mycroft would never bring up so much as ask for her past her log out time. He knew very well how much she cherished her day off. Nevertheless, she typed in her reply:

_Yes. Why?_

The reply came quicker than she had expected:

_Come to my flat. Please hurry._

But before she could type back a protest, a follow-up messaged beeped in that made her no longer question her boss' motives:

_It's an emergency._

Before she knew it, she was hailing a cab and was on her way to his apartment. Though perfectly calm on the outside, she was a bit shaken in the inside.

As soon as she arrived at the building, she rushed up the lobby and up the staircase, and then down the hall to where Mycroft's apartment was. She took out the spare key she had of his apartment (he entrusted it to her in case of urgent matters) and immediately stumbled into the apartment. "Boss?" she called out to the empty space before her.

She waited a few seconds before hearing a loud clanging of metal pots against the floor coming from the kitchen accompanied by the reply of a clearly distraught Mycroft, "I'm in the kitchen!"

"What on Earth..." she mumbled as she set down her purse and coat on one of the armchairs and slowly approached where the ruckus was coming from. As soon as she appeared by the doorway, her eyes opened wide at the horrendous sight. "This was your emergency?...Oh my...it is quite...tragic."

The counter was littered with what she could assume were flour, sugar, and cracked egg shells. A part of the floor was covered in a thick substance which she guessed was chocolate batter. Beside the puddle was the pot she heard falling moments ago. And lo and behold, behind the mess was one Mycroft Holmes with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a red apron tied around his waist, and a line of sweat above his brow. "Oh, Anthea..." he sighed, ignoring the look of amusement and disbelief on her face, "You're a woman."

"Excellent observation, Mycroft." She snickered.

"Yes, ha-ha, very funny." He retorted, massaging his temples with his hands that where still covered in flour, "I mean you must know how to work your way around the kitchen...as you can see this is not exactly in my line of expertise..."

At that point, Anthea couldn't decide whether she should laugh or be annoyed, but soon she decided to go with the latter.

"Mycroft, it's my day-off!" She stomped her foot irritably, "Where is your housekeeper?"

"I sent her home for the weekend. Poor Madame Posie was sick." Mycroft said, cringing at his flour stained hands. "I just need to bake a chocolate cake. That's all."

"Chocolate ca-Is this why you didn't come to the office today?" She crossed her arms, daring him to reply.

"If you must know, yes. Yes, this is why I did not come in today." replied the British man, flinging a couple of egg shells away from him.

"Why do you even need a cake?" She wasn't ready to give in to him. After all, today was her day-off. She had every right to refuse his requests if she wanted to.

He remained silent, and when she finally got impatient, she snapped her fingers to gain his attention. "It's...for my Mother." he finally said with a hint of awkwardness in his voice, "It's her birthday tomorrow and this year it was my turn to give her a present. I asked her what she wanted and she told me she wanted me to bake a cake for her."

Mycroft continued to ramble as Anthea began to giggle, "Honestly! Out of all of the presents in the world, she wants a homemade cake! I don't even bake! I have no idea how to-are you laughing at me?"

"What?" Anthea shot her head up and bit her fist to stop herself from laughing.

"This is a serious matter, Anthea." Mycroft reprimanded, taking much offense in her actions.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

"So...will you help me?" Mycroft asked in the most polite and gentle tone he could muster. He could see the hesitance in her expression since aiding him would mean giving up her one day off, but hoped for the best nevertheless.

"Fine." Anthea sighed, kicking her heels off and stepping over the puddle to the area where Mycroft was standing, "For Mrs Holmes. And for the sake of your own sanity as well."

"Very well, then." Mycroft spoke with admiration in his eyes, "Let's get started."

They spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess and then starting from scratch. Fortunately for Mycroft, Anthea was quite an experienced baker. She knew the recipe to a perfect delectable chocolate cake by heart and was doing most of the work. Mycroft aided her when she needed him to hand her something or measure ingredients, but most of the time, he simply leaned against the counter and watched the woman in front of him at work.

He has never seen Anthea this focused and immersed before. It was different to how she functioned in the office. It was almost as if she was actually enjoying what she was doing. He liked the sight of her like this, her brown hair pulled up into a messy bun, the batting of her eyelashes as she read through the frosting recipe on her phone, and her face tinging a rosy pink from all the work-

"Mycroft?" the older Holmes brother was pulled out of his trance by the voice of his assistant. "I said I'm done with the frosting. Would you like to try it?"

"Uhmm," Mycroft cleared his throat, "Alright."

Anthea swiped her index finger on the side of the mixing bowl where the chocolate frosting was made and brought it into her mouth. She then pushed the bowl towards Mycroft.

"How unsanitary." He cringed at what she just did, "Can't I use a spoon-"

"Oh, for God's sake!" She half laughed, half whined. "It's fine, boss. It won't kill you."

"Fine." Mycroft said with evident dismay in his voice. He reluctantly swiped his own finger on the edge of the bowl just as his assistant did and brought it to his mouth. Surprisingly, his obsessive-compulsive behavior didn't trigger. "This is...quite excellent." he praised.

When the timer sounded, they watched as she took the perfectly round chocolate chiffon out of the oven. She then gave him a bunch of instructions on how to frost the cake all by himself. "...then you just have to leave it in the chiller overnight, and voila! Your cake is done."

She was gathering her belongings and preparing to leave when Mycroft gave her an odd offer, "Would you like to come to my Mother's birthday dinner?"

Anthea scrunched her eyebrows in confusion as her boss continued.

"It's tomorrow evening, at my parents' home. And though I know you would rather be at home resting...I would really appreciate it if you came..."

"But Mycroft, it's my only day-off." Anthea reasoned, though her voice didn't sound as annoyed as she expected it to be. It was the work of shock from the sudden invitation.

"I would be glad to allow you to stay home on Monday and Tuesday, if that's the problem." He said, failing to hide his eagerness, "So...will you come?

"I cannot possibly take all the credit for baking Mother's cake."

"I don't...I don't know." Anthea replied, crossing her arms.

"But I want you there." Mycroft plainly said, catching her off guard. "What I mean is...what I-what I mean is-"

"You want me there?"

"Yes." No point in covering up his stumble. Anthea was not stupid. Mycroft could already imagine his little brother and his best friend cackling at his slip. "I would lo-_appreciate_ to have you there with me...Please, come?"

"Hmm..." Anthea walked towards him until they were about an arm's reach apart. She hummed to herself and then quipped, "Okay. I'll go. But I get Monday and Tuesday."

"Monday and Tuesday it is." Mycroft couldn't help but smile. An overwhelming amount of happiness was causing his insides to churn.

"In that case..." Anthea whispered, glancing at the kitchen once again, "Let's make some cupcakes!" she exclaimed excitedly before taking Mycroft's hand and dragging him along with her back to the kitchen.

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**AN:** I hope that made up for my absence. I really love the idea of Mycroft and Anthea together, or even just as really close friends. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :)


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